


Long Way Back

by DesertRaven



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Racism, Canon-Typical Violence, Is it time travel? It’s probably time travel, Multi, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertRaven/pseuds/DesertRaven
Summary: **on hiatus**It's a choice that I make but for us I choose to give it all upEmperor Solus zos Galvus, ten years into his reign, finds a familiar soul.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 32
Kudos: 80





	1. diligence

Ten years since Solus Galvus was declared Emperor Solus zos Galvus. A fledgling empire, as empires go, but already pushing to conquer. Dalmasca, Othard, plans for Aldenard. Many of these places will eventually fall, unable to resist the Empire’s magitek. Resistance movements and rebellions are inevitable, of course, but few will succeed.

For all their blustering about being superior to the savages, Garlean men were still men. It had been easy, shockingly easy, in fact, for Ara to find a man of high enough rank and willingness to bring her back to Garlemald as a companion. She had her sights set much higher, but he was a means to an end.

Once in the Imperial capital, Ara cultivated her image carefully. She became an entertainer, dancing for the wealthy and high ranking families. Off stage she had a reputation as a “mystic” and would tell fortunes at parties when she garnered an invitation. It was all an act, of course, but the ladies found it terribly amusing. She learned, gained information, her reputation grew and she climbed socially, as much as a non-citizen could. Finally, her work paid off in the form of an invitation to a dinner party.

Ara dresses to stand out. All dark silks and gilded chains, too much jewelry, bangles and anklets that clink with each step, rings on most of her fingers. It’s all part of the image, and how the Garleans expect to see her. She wears her silver hair in waves that fall nearly to her mid-back, the color contrasting sharply with her dark olive complexion. Her white eyes are lined with heavy kohl, but the rest of her makeup is minimal. She travels unescorted, as she often does, to the royal residence.

“Ara, darling! How good to see you!”

The widow Autrione. Marlena is the matriarch of a very wealthy Garlean family. No one much cares for her, Ara included. But the empire needs her financial backing, and she has been quite a generous patron. Ara smiles, forced, and allows the woman to escort her into the parlor. She quickly takes stock of those in attendance. Darnus and his wife, more men she does not recognize, though she assumes they are either powerful or high-ranking. Possibly both. She recognizes most of the women, at least on sight. As is her custom, she lingers on the periphery watching, listening. Someone brings her a drink, which she sips slowly. It would not do to get drunk, not when everything she has worked for might finally come to fruition.

The room falls silent when the large doors open again, an attendant announcing the presence of His Radiance Solus zos Galvus and the Empress. Everyone bows. Ara does not. He sees it, golden eyes locking on hers and narrowing briefly. Her heart skips several beats, but she still holds his gaze for seconds longer than is comfortable or appropriate. She dips her head just slightly, but not before she sees the barely-there smirk that tips his lips. Married he may be, but from what she understands it was a political marriage, and he frequently enjoys the company of other women - men, too, if rumors are to be believed. She can only hope that moment was enough to capture his interest.

It doesn’t take long to determine that she has been successful in this first effort. When the announcement for dinner is made, she sees the Emperor pause briefly at the door near an attendant and when they reach the dining hall, the same man escorts her to the seat directly to Solus’s left. She wonders who has been put out of their chair, but doesn’t care enough to ask. The Empress, seated at the opposite end of the table, does not appear interested by the seating change in the slightest. A few sideways glances thrown her direction, but Solus is prone to eccentricities and few dare call it out.

The man himself spares her only a cursory glance before everyone is seated, and then ignores her through aperitifs and the entire first course. Ara makes polite conversation with those around her, including Marlena who is seated across from her.

“You simply must let Ara read your future,Your Radiance!”

Those golden eyes are on her again, but now she has to be in character. She dips her head, smiling slightly.

“You flatter me, madam. I am sure His Radiance has little interest in my parlor tricks.”

Solus does not take his eyes off her, and she feels her face flush hot at his stare. It feels like he can see straight through her act, even cultivated so carefully as it is. Somehow she blushes even deeper at the sound of his voice.

“One possessed of the power to see the future? Oh, I am quite curious.”

“Very well, Your Radiance. May I see your hand?”

She holds his gaze as he removes one glove, slowly and deliberately. She takes his hand in both of hers, her myriad rings glinting in the flickering candlelight. His hands are soft; of course they would be, an emperor has no need for manual work. The universe may as well have been reduced to just the two of them, with the way his eyes never leave her. She traces the lines of his palm with one fingertip, mind working rapidly to determine what she can say.

“Your Radiance lives a great many years. I see… A strong empire, with many martial victories. Savage lands claimed by the might of your armies.” She flattens her hand against his palm, the other pressed against the back of his hand. “You mourn… a profound loss. A loved one perhaps?”

She risks a glance up at him, but his lips have pressed into a flat line. He pulls his hand back, replacing his glove in jerking motions. Too much, then. Ara presses her hands into her lap.

“Forgive me, I have said too much.”

“Nothing anyone could not simply invent. I suggest you stick to ladies’ parlors.”

He’s dismissive, but she’s come too far to let this opportunity pass her by.

“Perhaps a more private demonstration of my talents?” She nearly purrs, an invitation meant for his ears only.

The Emperor does not look back at her, but the slight tilt of his head tells her he’s heard her.

The remainder of the dinner passes quietly and uneventfully, with no further conversation between the two of them. Ara contents herself with speaking to the other guests, until the Empress, and many of the other guests, depart and the rest of them are escorted back to the parlor. Marlena, for a blessing, chooses this time to excuse herself as well. Ara is the odd one out, as both a foreigner and an unattached woman. She seats herself at one of the small tables near the roaring hearth, entertains the wives with her act while the men discuss more important matters. Ara half-listens, getting what information she can that might be useful later.

“You, savage. You are Ala Mhigan, are you not?”

She looks up at the man who had spoken, Darnus. After a year here, being called a savage hardly bothers her any more. Ara nods once. That they are discussing Ala Mhigo doesn’t come as a surprise, it is one of the most wealthy and powerful city-states in Eorzea. A significant foothold for the Empire, should they claim it, though it seems foolish to extend their strength while engaged in Othard.

“By birth only. I am a traveler, and have not seen my home in quite some time.”

She can feel Solus looking at her and she glances over at him with a slight smile as another man joins the conversation with a snicker.

“Are you not a fortune-teller? Or are your prophecies limited to women’s affairs?”

Ara closes her eyes, drawing a deep breath and flattening her palms on the table. She can hear the crackling of the fireplace, the ticking of a long case chronometer, feel all eyes on her. The women around her are waiting with baited breath. It feels silly, but this is all part of the show. Finally, she opens her eyes.

“The man who will conquer Gyr Abania is not in this room, intending no offense to present company.”

A few derisive chuckles, a few grumbles. Solus does neither.

“Who takes it?”

“The XIVth.”

“No such legion exists.” One of the other men looks less than pleased by her ‘vision’ of the future. Someone wanting that particular glory for himself, maybe. Ara does not spare him a glance, eyes locked with the emperor.

“It will.” She doesn’t waver in voice or gaze. She can’t afford to. If any of this is going to work, Solus needs to believe her, or be interested enough to see her privately.

A smirk, telling and gone in an instant, and then he waves his hand with a false smile. Emperor Solus zos Galvus, amused by the savage charlatan. But oh, that look. She has him. The only question now is how long he’ll make her wait.

———

It is curiosity brought on by boredom that compels him to seek her out, nothing more. At least, this is what Solus tells himself. Nothing to do with that soul burning brighter than it has any right to; the brilliant hue shines like a beacon, distracting him to the point of madness now that he’s noticed it. Certainly not any interest in this half-being who claims to know the future.

Idle curiosity, perhaps some small desire of the flesh, a fault of this mortal frame. Attempts to relate with these creatures end only in disappointment - his - and pain - usually theirs. It is a lesson he has learned well over his many lifetimes. But with a soul such as that, he can hardly be faulted for being interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screech at me on Discord! [Emet-Selch’s Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/K9PW9qv)


	2. traveler

The summons arrives a week later. Long enough that Ara begins to think that she didn’t have an impact on the Emperor after all. But the letter comes, and leaves her little time to prepare for an audience with him that same afternoon. She chooses a more conservative dress: draped black fabric falls to the floor, pinned at both shoulders with silver clasps, but the slits up the front reach nearly to her hips. Far less jewelry than at the party, but she still wears her hair loose and her eyeliner heavy. Again, she travels alone from her apartment - the dearth of housing is not exclusive to Eorzea, it seems - to the Emperor’s residence. Inside, she sheds her cloak and swaps heavy boots for flat sandals before being escorted through the halls.

The attendant announces her, and then steps aside to allow her entry to the room. The space is dominated by a heavy wood table, a map of Hydaelyn spread across it and held down at the corners, various markers scattered and clustered primarily in Othard. Massive bookshelves line one wall, the opposite side is occupied by a large hearth. There are a few chairs, the largest and most ornate, and by far the most comfortable looking, is currently occupied by His Radiance. He doesn’t look up from the stack of papers in front of him, even when the door closes behind her. She isn’t sure if it’s his office, but it certainly looks that way, and Ara has to stifle a giggle with the back of her hand.

“Something amusing you?”

“I suppose I simply hadn’t considered that the Emperor would have an office.”

Solus looks up at her, finally, almost scowling. “Did you think I did everything from the throne?”

She could certainly imagine it, with his demeanor. She holds her tongue and dips her head in a minute bow. He looks back to his papers and waves in the general direction of one of the chairs, so she sits. She’s half tempted to call him out on his horrible manners, but she didn’t expect any different.

Minutes pass, with only the soft sounds of shuffling paper and the ticking chronometer, the occasional crackling of the fireplace.

“You claim to know the future. What happens in Othard?”

“I claim nothing, Your Radiance.”

Ara stands, crosses to the table with the map. She isn’t sure what all the pieces represent, but she knows the locations. Her finger lands on Doma.

“Doma falls, but it takes you twenty years and the use of Allagan technology. Modified ceruleum powered warmachina. You don’t bother with the Azim Steppe, not enough there to make fighting the tribes worth it.” She runs her finger across the map. “Kugane remains neutral, Onokoro is controlled by the Confederacy.”

She looks up from the map to find him looking at her, studying her, and she wonders what it is he sees. He doesn’t look the least bit invested in anything she’s said.

“Shall I continue?”

“Do you have anything interesting to say?”

Ara laughs, taking her hand off the table and retreating to her chair.

“I have a great many things to say, Your Radiance, though I would not presume to know what interests you.”

Solus leaves her sitting in silence again. She manages to keep herself still for several minutes, but eventually gives up and occupies herself browsing the bookshelves. Most of the bindings are inscribed in other languages, ranging from heavy leather-bound tomes to smaller, cloth-covered sheafs. Ara won’t pull anything off the shelves, but it’s better than sitting and watching him ignore her.

“How did you come to be in Garlemald?”

“I am a traveler.”

She doesn’t look at him when she responds, but she can feel his tension overwhelm the room.

“How?”

“A great many of your officers have a taste for exotic women.” She glances over her shoulder at him, “Yourself included, it seems.”

“You flatter yourself. You are a savage who has somehow wormed her way into my court. You possess knowledge that you should not have, so I must conclude either that you are a spy, or that there is a leak in my council.” 

He moves as he speaks, until he is standing behind her, invading her space with his presence. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end, but she continues to feign interest in the bookshelves. She raises one hand to reach for a book, but his fingers wrap around her wrist to stop her halfway. Her breath catches in her throat, little sparks running down her arm from where his gloved fingers contact her bare skin, her reaction to him surprising her even still.

“Which is it?”

Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip and she swallows the lump in her throat.

“I am merely observant, Your Radiance.”

“Am I to believe, then, that your interests here are more unseemly?”

As if to make his point - as though there could be any doubt - his free hand brushes up the outside of her thigh, coming to rest on her hip. Her own arm shoots out to brace against the shelf, but it does nothing to still her trembling. Solus is an attractive man, of course she desires him, but she didn’t exactly expect this. Her voice is less than confident when she manages to force words out.

“Believe whatever you’d like.”

Her awareness shrinks to her breathing, her heartbeats, the space between moments. Just as suddenly as it began, he removes his hands and withdraws from her completely. She releases a shaky breath and straightens up before turning to face him.

Ara meets his eyes, and for a moment considers simply telling him. Ending this act before it goes any further. But she needs his trust, and she knows she does not yet have it. Trust may be the only thing that saves her life, when all the cards are on the table. He turns abruptly and returns to his chair and his papers, his map, the trappings of his role as Emperor.

“You’re dismissed.”

She wants to storm out of the room. What she does is bow.

“Thank you for your time, Your Radiance.”

He waves his hand, but does not look at her as she leaves.

———

“The little white haired savage was here again.”

He nods absently in response to his wife’s statement.

“Who is she?”

How to answer that question when he isn’t certain himself? She had given him little during their meeting. Cryptic answers and half truths. A traveler. As though the past has come for him after all this time. He snorts at the thought. Still, there is so much of the familiar about her. Her laugh, the way she baits him with her words, the glint in her eyes that speaks of secrets.

“Solus.”

Illiana is one of the few who calls him by the name that belongs to this mortal frame, one of the few who would dare to take such a commanding tone with him. He looks up at her, meeting her eyes through the mirror of her dressing table.

“Bring her here if you want her. We do not need the scandal of a savage coming and going from the royal residence.”

Had she been born a man, Illiana yae Galvus would have made a fine Legatus. Fortunately or unfortunately for her, Garlemald’s military is yet a man’s world. Solus could not have chosen a better empress. Calculating and intelligent, with little interest in him beyond his station. Theirs was a marriage of political and financial gain, and that suits them both.

“I shall take that under consideration.”

It couldn’t hurt to keep her closer, at least until he knows what game she’s playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screech at me on Discord! [Emet-Selch’s Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/K9PW9qv)


	3. savage

“She what?”

Ara stares at the Royal Guard as though he has sprouted a second head.

“The Empress,” the man repeats himself slowly, “has requested your presence.”

It makes no more sense now that it did the first time he said it. Why the Empress? The Emperor, she would have understood. Perhaps been surprised by, given the way their last meeting had gone, but understood.

“Now?”

Her irritation is equally matched by his, and she idly wonders who he offended to get stuck with the dubious pleasure of fetching the savage. She doesn’t have time to get ready, it seems, so she’s thankful that she had already planned on going out today and at least has some makeup on. With a slight scowl on her face, she pulls her cloak from the stand beside the door and steps into the cold to follow the guard.

As they walk through the city, she has plenty of time to consider her shortcomings. Such as not bothering to learn more about the Empress when this plan started forming. Ara hadn’t imagined it would come up, nor that she would have occasion to interact with the woman. Everything she knows, she had learned after arriving in Garlemald. A foolish oversight on her part.

A different attendant escorts her through the residence, to what she guesses is the Empress’s private chambers. The first feeling that hits her is an uncomfortable sense of familiarity. She had seen her at the dinner, but nowhere near as close, and at that time her focus had been on Solus. The woman is of typical Garlean height, a bit taller than Ara herself, but the pale gold hair, the predatory blue gaze - she knows this face. When the attendant introduces her, Ara bows if only to keep from having to meet those eyes.

“Please, sit.”

The woman gestures to a sitting area, and Ara settles onto the edge of a loveseat, folding her hands into her lap. She still can’t look up, and has the distinct sense that she shouldn’t. The Empress takes a seat across from her, waving to someone else in the room and after a moment teacups are deposited on the low table between them.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“My apologies, your grace,” she has no idea if the title is correct, but it felt wrong to not use something, “you remind me of someone I knew.”

She laughs. Even her voice sends chills down Ara’s spine. This woman is dangerous. Not at all what she would have imagined.

“Shall I be flattered by the comparison, or insulted?”

“He was…” She struggles to find the right words. “A fierce fighter. Perhaps one of the most powerful men I have ever known.”

Beautiful. Terrifying. Deadly. All words that would also seem to describe the woman before her.

“A Garlean?”

Of course she wouldn’t want to be compared to a savage. Ara nods. “Yes, your grace.”

“Then I shall take it as a compliment.” She sips her tea, her analytical stare still fixed firmly on Ara, making her feel as though all of her secrets are laid bare between them. “You have attracted my husband’s attention.”

She freezes, cup halfway to her mouth. All the rumors had led her to believe that the Empress did not care what her husband did, that she largely turned a blind eye to his affairs. If that isn’t the case, she is in trouble.

“I apologize—”

“You may speak freely, here. His Radiance is free to indulge his vices, as I am free to indulge mine. Though it is rare for him to show interest in a savage.”

Ara replaces her cup on the table, not trusting herself to not reveal her nerves with her trembling. “I have only seen him twice. I do not know if he has any interest in me.”

“You would not be here if he did not.” She lifts her gaze to meet the other woman’s, surprised to find no malice there. “So tell me, who are you?”

She chews on her lower lip, sensing the question wouldn’t have been asked if she didn’t already know the answer. “Ara Thorne. I am Ala Mhigan by birth, though I have been a traveler most of my life. I have been in Garlemald as a… companion, and entertainer, for the past year.”

What else is there she can say? No one would believe her if she told the whole story. And she would likely end up imprisoned, or worse.

“And why Garlemald? Surely there are wealthy patrons elsewhere who would be glad to have you.”

Ara hears the question for what it is, a thinly veiled implication that she should have stayed in her homelands, and she is careful with her response. “I believe I can be of use to His Radiance.”

The Empress hums in response, a reply that Ara doesn’t know how to interpret, and continues to study her in silence for long, uncomfortable minutes. Every instinct screams at her to get out, but she keeps her composure as best she can. She doesn’t know what the woman is looking for in her, hasn’t figured out why she was summoned in the first place. It clearly isn’t jealousy, and the Empress’s interest in her seems passing at best. Finally, she seems satisfied with whatever she’s seen.

“Julia will show you to your rooms.”

She says it so casually that it takes Ara a moment to register what’s been said. Despite her intention to keep her face neutral, her eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if to speak.

“The Emperor is a patron of art in all forms. Savage though yours may be, you are hardly the first performer he has hosted.” She smiles as she stands, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Another woman, she guesses this is Julia, steps forward. A polite dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless. She doesn’t even think to ask about her things in her apartment as she’s led to the door.

“A word of unsolicited advice, Ara. His Radiance is a fiercely loyal ally, and a very dangerous enemy. Do try to stay in his good graces.”

As if she needed to be told any of that.

———

He resists the tug of her soul, attempts to dismiss its presence, as if somehow that will make her disappear. It does not, and the more he resists the more he finds himself pulled in that direction. Infuriating that he should be so distracted. And yet in the evening as she paces the halls in the guest wing, he finds himself following her from the shadows.

_Ever the wanderer._

Her soul is restless, trapped in this frigid wasteland, confined indoors. He aches with the memory of what, of who that fractured soul once was.

She stops, suddenly, and turns in his direction. He knows she cannot possibly see him, or sense his presence, no mortal should be able to. And yet, her white eyes seem to meet his. Staring at him. His heart races in a way he has not felt in years. She whistles, tuneless notes that make his brows knit in confusion, and he almost expects her to say something to him. But after a moment she shrugs to herself and turns back the way she had been going.

It was nothing. Just a strange coincidence. A stranger coincidence in a series of strange coincidences. Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me, and all the lovely people who make these fics possible, on Discord! [Emet-Selch’s Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/K9PW9qv)


	4. farce

After the incident on her first night in the residence, Ara had not felt the shadowy presence again. Someone had arrived with her things from her apartment - clothes and jewelry, her cards and dancer’s gear - on the second day. Days passed, and she saw neither the Emperor or Empress. Aside from meals, which she took with the household staff, she was alone.

It wasn’t all bad, though. She took to wandering, anywhere where the stationed guards didn’t turn her away. There was a beautiful library, with shelves that extended to the top of the second floor, a lush greenhouse that seemed the only warm place in all of Ilsaberd, and her rooms had a lovely view of an interior courtyard, where she occasionally saw who she assumed were other members of the royal family. None of them spoke to her, but at least some of the staff had begun nodding in greeting when they passed.

Though Garlemald never truly warmed, the clouds broke and the sun shone into the courtyard. Taking advantage of the uncharacteristically nice day, Ara had grabbed a book from the library and settled on a bench outside. 

A peal of childish laughter draws her attention and she glances up to see a toddler streaking across the icy path toward her, a harried looking woman following close behind. Just as the child almost reaches her, his feet slide out from under him and he hits the ground. Laughter quickly turns to wailing and Ara reacts on instinct, scooping him up before she can consider what she’s doing. The Garlean woman, likely a nursemaid based on her attire, looks at her warily, but at least the child has stopped crying. A hand closes around a stray lock of her white hair and she looks down to find gold eyes staring back up at her.

“I see you’ve met my grandson.”

The presence of a third person in the courtyard had gone entirely unnoticed in the commotion, but at the sound of his voice the woman gasps and drops into a curtsy.

“Apologies, Your Radiance. He slipped away from me.”

Solus doesn’t appear to hear, let alone notice, the nursemaid.

“Varis. Yes, we’ve met.” Ara smiles down at the boy, who stares back at her with furrowed brows. She taps his forehead gently. “Don’t do that, your face will get stuck that way.”

She sets him down, brushing off her skirt where his boots had been, and he toddles back toward the other woman. With another deep curtsy in Solus’s direction, she guides him out of the courtyard, leaving Ara and Solus alone. She settles back onto the bench, retrieving the book and placing it in her lap, but doesn’t open it again. He’s staring at her, but she doesn’t return his gaze, choosing to watch a cloud drift across the blue sky instead.

“You live long enough that he succeeds you on the throne.”

“More prophecies, fortune-teller?”

“Are you any more interested this time, Your Radiance?”

He joins her on the bench, sitting a little too close to be entirely appropriate, but she doesn’t move. She’s overwhelmed with the urge to reach out and touch him, if only to convince herself that he is indeed real, but she keeps her hands curled around the edge of her book.

“Your eyes were not always white.”

She looks over at him in mild surprise. It’s a statement of fact, not a question, but other than the unusual color it isn’t something he would just know.

“They were blue, once. Aetheric corruption turned them, and my hair, white.”

A long story, best saved for another time. Soon. Once she’s earned his trust, there will be no more secrets. At least, that is what she hopes for.

“Why are you here?”

“I wasn’t given to believe I had a choice in the matter.”

“In Garlemald.”

Ara stares down at the book in her lap without really seeing it. If they keep asking her this question, eventually she’s going to break.

“I can be of assistance, if you will permit me.” He scoffs, every bit the arrogant Emperor that she would have expected. He has no need of her help. Still, she presses on undeterred. “My fortune-telling is only meant to amuse, but I do have some knowledge of what will come to pass. The broader strokes of the future.”

“For the sake of argument, assume that I believe you. Tell me something you could not have learned sleeping through the ranks.”

The verbal barb stings, but she can hardly deny that that is exactly what she’s done. She could not have gotten where she is without taking advantage of every possible avenue to land herself in his path. It also hasn’t seemed to deter him from seeking her out.

“Garlemald causes the Seventh Calamity by pulling down Dalamud and releasing Bahamut.”

Solus does not have any apparent reaction to her statement, but her own nerves are clear in the way she worries her lower lip between her teeth. It’s enough of the truth that he should believe her, not so much that she would show her hand prematurely. She isn’t practiced with lying, despite her act the past year, but it’s not exactly lying if she’s giving part of the truth.

“How do you know these things?”

Her lips pull into a slight smile. “Time is a funny thing, Your Radiance. I believe you may understand that better than most.”

Ara doesn’t wait for him to reply, knowing that if he wants to stop her he will. She stands and tips her head in a move too small to be a true bow, that mischievous smile still on her face. “Thank you for your company, Emperor Solus. Enjoy your afternoon.”

Truthfully, she has nowhere else to be, but she hasn’t come this far by throwing herself at people. If he’s interested, he will pursue her. His intense gaze remains on her until the courtyard doors swing shut at her back.

———

The city burning before him is not his home, not truly. Time has warped and faded the image, distorting it at the edges, but it is the closest approximation his memory can manage. Watching it does not bring the pain as sharp any longer, but there is an ache that reaches down to the depths of his soul. Everything he has endured for the sake of restoring what was broken, the weight of it all bears down his shoulders. Some days the burden is lighter, and some it seems enough to bring him to his knees.

Ghostly fingers shift through his hair, brush the nape of his neck. She is with him, in his dreams; she had not been with him when their world ended. But when he turns to look at her, he is shocked to find a different face looking back at him. It is still her smile, the same smile that teased him in life, and tormented him in all the years since.

“Let me help you.”

Her hands caress his face, her touch no more substantial than a gust of wind, and she seems to float in front of him.

“Why are you here?”

Perhaps in his dream, she will be honest with him. A ridiculous thought. She is only a manifestation of his subconscious, here.

“My dear Hades, I’ve come to save your soul.”

His heart seizes in his chest. How long has it been since anyone had called him by that name? He reaches for her and she shatters into nothing with a sound like breaking glass. 

The city burns, and he is alone.

When Solus wakes, his face is damp with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Varis. That’s it, that’s the story.
> 
> Join me, and all the lovely people who make these fics possible, on Discord! [Emet-Selch’s Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/K9PW9qv)


	5. perform

Ara loses herself in the music, the rise and fall of notes from the piano in the mostly empty ballroom. Her bare feet strike softly on polished wood floors and the silk of her skirt swirls around her calves as she spins through standard and technical step combinations. Her garb is Thavnairian, not Ala Mhigan, but the Garleans expect a savage, and she is more than happy to provide. Her chakrams seem to sing as they split the air around her, and she catches them on muscle-memory alone. Colorful streaks of her aether only add more spectacle to the dance. She catches a chakram in front of her face when the final notes of the song ring out and she sweeps into a low bow, breathing hard from exertion.

The Empress’s retinue offers polite applause, but the lady herself does not immediately respond. Ara glances up to meet those cold blue eyes, and immediately feels like someone has dumped icy water over her. She holds back her shiver as she straightens up, fights the urge to take a step back when the Empress stands and walks toward her. The woman even moves like a predator, like a coeurl ready to pounce.

“I can understand what he sees in you. For a savage, you are quite lovely.”

Her tone, coupled with the way she looks at her, makes heat rise in Ara’s cheeks. Since joining the royal household, she has come to realize that the Empress prefers the company of women. Her tolerance for Solus’s affairs makes significantly more sense in light of that knowledge. But like most of Garlemald’s older families, Empress Illiana looks down on outsiders, so-called savages, like her. Which makes this interaction all the more uncomfortable.

The woman’s fingers hover just over the bladed edge of one chakram where it dangles from her fingers. The edges are dull since she’s had no reason to maintain her weapons; she has been absent from battle for too long.

“I cannot help but wonder if these might be used as weapons.”

“In some cases, your grace.”

“Why would a ‘companion’ need weapons, I wonder…”

Between the Empress invading her space, and the watchful eyes of the other women, Ara is practically vibrating with the need to escape. Fingertips trail over her knuckles as Illiana circles around to stand behind her, and she can’t suppress her shiver. She leans in closer, so close that Ara can feel the heat of her breath across her ear.

“Don’t worry, Solus and I do not share.” The low whisper leaves absolutely no doubt as to what she’s speaking of. The woman pulls away abruptly and starts for the door of the ballroom. “It was a lovely performance. Should you grow tired of waiting for my husband, you know where to find me.”

The rest - her entourage, the pianist - follow the Empress out, and Ara releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Though she hadn’t had much of one to begin with, attracting the attention of Illiana yae Galvus had certainly not been part of the plan. She can only hope it doesn’t unnecessarily complicate matters.

———

Somewhere within her, Ara knows that she should not be actively aiding the Empire in conquest. It is one thing to be here for Solus, to give vague details about the way the future unfolds, but to provide him with knowledge he will use to subjugate thousands, hundreds of thousands… She traces over the map, over places she knows and loves, homes of people she has broken bread with, aided, cared for. But all she can feel is the empty ache of loss, of a future that will come to pass if she doesn’t do something to change it.

“What is it?”

She looks across the table at him, and for a moment forgets that he is the leader of an Empire.

“Do you wonder if the sacrifices you make will be worth it, in the end?”

_There are things we can ill afford to lose._

She shakes her head to rid herself of that unwelcome voice. The sentiment is right, but the motivation is all wrong. Her choice, her sacrifice, has already been made.

“Forgive me, Your Radiance, I was lost in thought.” Ara forces a smile. “Where were we?”

Solus does not look back to the map. Golden eyes remain on her, searching as always. She’s tempted to ask him what he’s looking for, or what it is he sees. As always, she bites her tongue.

“When you have known loss as I have, no sacrifice is too great.”

She looks away, a poor attempt to hide her reaction to that statement. While she cannot hope to understand the depth of his pain, the burden he must carry to feel that way, she does know what it is to lose, to feel that anything would be worth it to rewrite history.

With a sigh, Solus replaces his quill and begins rolling his sleeves back down.

“I think that’s quite enough for today. Will you join me for a walk?”

Ara glances to the window, where she can see snow drifting lazily down, and then back to Solus with a raised brow. He clicks his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

“Oh, alright. A short walk, then.”

Even bundled in her heavy cloak, Ara still shivers slightly in the chill air. It doesn’t seem to bother Solus at all, but of course it wouldn’t. Garlemald is all metal and grey stone, but from their vantage point on the roof there is something almost pleasing in the uniformity. Smoke curls from chimneys all over the city, darkening the already drab afternoon, and in the distance she can see evergreen trees, the forests that surround the capital city. It will grow even colder here, in the wake of the next calamity, and she wonders how anyone will manage.

“You hate the cold.”

She nods. “Does it bother you?”

“Winter often brings the return of loved ones from their travels.” It’s a cryptic answer, not at all an answer to the question she’s asked, and when she glances over at him his expression is distant. The look is gone in an instant and he tilts his head to look at her. “No, I do not mind the cold.”

For just a moment, however brief, she had seen the mask slip again.

———

For one clearly not practiced in keeping secrets, Ara - if that is indeed her name - is remarkably committed to her act. Her tells are clear, at least to him, but Solus cannot seem to work out what it is she’s hiding. She knows more than she lets on, but while he had accused her of espionage, he knows that is not her motive.

So what is? And more, why does he find himself hesitating to press her?

She is incomplete, and yet somehow more whole than any being on this star has a right to be. It defies all reason, but the proof is beside him; that bright, unmistakable hue nearly blinding under the clouded sky. He wishes he could confirm what his sight tells him, but no other would be able to see it. 

If he reached out to her, would that fractured soul respond in kind?

“You think very loudly, Your Radiance.”

There is a hint of a smile in her voice, but he can hear the sadness in her tone as well. She had spoken of sacrifices, and he wonders what she left behind to come here. He turns to face her fully, reaching out to tug her cloak tighter around her before he can think better of it. Her lips part as she looks up at him, and he is nearly overwhelmed with the urge to lean down and kiss her.

“Yes, I have been told that before.” He affects levity, but it sounds hollow even to his own ear. “Come, let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

Ara does not protest as he leads her inside again, nor when he dismisses her to return to his work. He half hopes she will say something to stop him, but her gaze only lingers on his back until he rounds a corner and disappears from her sight.

An unusual game they play, to be sure, but he finds himself drawn into it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm I’m not super thrilled with this chapter but it’s been sitting in edits for a week so. Here we go.
> 
> Join me, and all the lovely people who make these fics possible, on Discord! [Emet-Selch’s Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/K9PW9qv)


	6. dine

“Can I tell you a secret?” Ara smiles, voice dropping to a whisper to avoid being overheard. “I know who your grandfather really is.”

Varis smiles back at her and leans his head closer to hers. “See-crit.”

Even if he had no understanding of what she said, it felt nice to tell someone. Deception was exhausting, she didn’t know how so many managed it. She laughs and ruffles the boy’s hair gently before shooting him back to Chloe, the nursemaid she had seen in the courtyard. She wouldn’t go so far as to call the woman a friend, but they talk occasionally, now, and Ara would take what she could get.

“I’ve never seen him take to anyone the way he’s done with you. He’s usually so shy.”

Ara straightens up and smoothes out her skirts with a shrug. People do tend to gravitate toward her, even here where most are wary if not outright suspicious of outsiders. “I must just have one of those faces.”

“I suppose so.” Chloe lifts the boy to settle him on her hip and he babbles something unintelligible. “It’s about time for this little prince to have a nap. Have a good day, Ara.”

She returns the nursemaid’s small smile and watches the pair retreat down the hallway. Her face falls quickly once she’s alone again, a pang of loneliness stabbing at her chest. More than a year away from home, no friendly faces, no one to confide in. But then, she had left because the divide between her and those she had called friends grew too great. Tears sting in her eyes and she wipes them away before they can fall. This was her choice, and she has to live with it.

Someone is watching her, she can feel their eyes on her back. She turns but is not surprised to find no one there. At least no one visible. She doesn’t see the warping of aether so much as feel it, the air almost distorted where the darker presence is. As she moves to take a step toward her observer, the feeling is gone. Ara lets out a breath. Next time, she’ll say something.

A heavy-handed knock at her door startles her awake. She must have drifted off while reading. Ara rubs sleep from her eyes and uncurls herself from the seat she had been dozing in. The man at the door is one of Solus’s attendants; she recognizes him on sight, if not by name. Her yawn, awkwardly hidden with the back of her hand, gets a grimace in response.

“Emperor Solus requests your presence for dinner this evening.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, raising one eyebrow. “Requests, or commands?”

“Someone will come to escort you.”

He turns on his heel without waiting for her reply. No indication of what time, or how she should dress. She’s half tempted to refuse when the time comes, wonders if Solus would come to fetch her himself, but knows she won’t actually do that. Deciding it’s better to be on the safe side, she proceeds into the bedroom to get herself ready.

After several changes, she settles on a deep maroon dress, the fabric twisted and tied at the back of her neck, leaving her shoulders and a good portion of her back exposed. The light material hangs loose over the rest of her, but the fabric is thin enough that it does nothing to hide her toned dancer’s figure. Her hair is twisted into a loose updo, stray strands brushing her bare shoulders. It’s ridiculous that she should be so worried about dinner, when she’s seen him alone already on more than one occasion. Dinner is different, though. Dinner might mean something. She paces the floor, fighting the urge to chew her nails, bouncing off the walls in her nervousness. When the knock comes, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

Ara practically rips the door open, and sucks in a surprised breath when she registers that he has, in fact, come to fetch her.

“Em— Emperor Solus!”

Her tongue moves faster than her brain, but she catches herself. She takes in the sight of him, at once familiar and somehow not. The medals are conspicuously absent from the fur-trimmed half coat he wears, as is the red sash, but otherwise he is dressed much the same as she would expect.

“They did not tell me you would be coming,” she says, floundering for words.

“Would you like me to leave and send someone else?”

“No!” Her answer is too quick and she blushes, looking away. “No, I simply hadn’t—”

He holds his gloved hand out to her, halting her train of thought, and she takes it with some trepidation. For a moment, however brief, however absurd, she fears he will pull her into darkness and trap her there. But he only leads her down the hall with her hand in his.

They approach a set of double doors, pulled open by the flanking attendants, and she follows him into a dining room. Smaller, nowhere near as opulent as the one she had been in their first meeting, but still befitting of royalty. Aside from the staff they are the only two in the room, and the table has been set with only two places. She allows herself a small thrill at the thought that they’ll be alone this evening, but tempers her expectations. He escorts her to the table and pulls out her chair for her, and she finds herself blushing. The whole thing is approaching romance. He takes his seat, and immediately someone is filling his glass. Another door opens and the scent of food wafts into the room. Dinner is as decadent as it smells; roasted meat and vegetables, and the best bread she thinks she’s ever tasted.

“Do you enjoy it here?”

What an odd thing for him to be asking. She hesitates with her answer.

“I am grateful for your hospitality, Your Radiance.”

“You have not answered my question.”

“I’m not sure how to answer. I am homesick, and find myself lonely much of the time. More so, being here. Garlemald is… different than I expected.” Ara sighs, staring into her wine. “I don’t want to leave, and even if I were to do so, I can’t return home.”

This had been a one-way journey from the start, she had known that, but she hadn’t expected to miss everything so much.

“Why can you not return?”

“It’s a long, complicated story. Not exactly suitable conversation for dinner.”

Solus doesn’t press her, and she’s glad for it, but she can almost see him mulling over her answers thus far. The light from the roaring hearth at one end of the room casts shadows over his features, leaving him looking darker and more threatening than she has seen him. The image, the sickening familiarity of it, chills her. She looks away from him, fixating instead on the embroidered tablecloth.

His fingers - bare, when had he removed his gloves? - brush the back of her hand and she looks up to meet his gaze.

“I seem to recall being promised a ‘private demonstration’ of your talents.”

She burns at the seductive purr of his voice, and everything it promises. She’s damned herself by coming here, by choosing to give up everything for him, but she knows she would make the same decision a thousand times over. Her lips curve, returning his knowing smirk.

“Which talents are you interested in, Your Radiance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Emet-Selch’s Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/K9PW9qv)
> 
> 3/12: If you’re reading this, I have every intention of continuing with it. But real life is what it is and sometimes the words just don’t happen. Hope to be back to it soon.


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